


Lopsided

by LetMeEntertainYou



Category: Queen (Band)
Genre: Gen, Scoliosis, he wants bras bro
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-17
Updated: 2019-05-17
Packaged: 2020-03-06 14:36:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,037
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18853054
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LetMeEntertainYou/pseuds/LetMeEntertainYou
Summary: He must be lying. Even the blind could see how awkward it looked on him. His shoulders stood at different heights, making him look lopsided. His hips were noticeably uneven, the curve of his spine making one jut out in an almost and embarrassingly feminine way. And from the side, his shoulder blades rolled forward no matter how hard he tried to make them appear flat.





	Lopsided

**Author's Note:**

> My blog is Disabled-Queen-HC on tumblr.  
> Anon asked: Hi- as someone with scoliosis maybe you could do one of the boys struggling with wearing no shirt or tank tops or other clothes in public that might show the scoliosis? So they try and maybe wear baggier clothes to hide it but the other boys encourage them and they start wearing more things they want on stage and stuff? ❤️

“It looks stupid doesn’t it?” John says as he stares at the floor length mirror before him.

He’s wearing a smart pair of tan pants, which he quite likes. They’re comfy and stretchy enough to hop around on stage with. It was the shirt. 

It was a beautiful pale yellow, a color he fancied. It was a button up with sleeves that could easily roll up if he got too hot under the stage lights. 

But it fit. 

Which doesn’t make sense. Most people bought clothes with that very intention, for them to fit. John couldn’t relate to such a notion, preferring his shirts to be extra large even though he was a medium on a good day.

John turned to the side, rolling his shoulders back and standing up straighter before he turned to the front again.

“No, this won’t work,” he says, looking at how every uneven curve and tilt was displayed for the world to see. 

“Sweetheart, you look terrific,” Freddie said, walking forward to fix a few wrinkles in the shirt.

He must be lying. Even the blind could see how awkward it looked on him. His shoulders stood at different heights, making him look lopsided. His hips were noticeably uneven, the curve of his spine making one jut out in an almost and embarrassingly feminine way. And from the side, his shoulder blades rolled forward no matter how hard he tried to make them appear flat.

And it was all out there, highlighted by the shirt that fit him a little too well.

He shrinked away from his reflection, bumping into Freddie before he shut his eyes. His scoliosis made him feel so weird. It wasn’t terribly disfiguring or all that noticeable, but once it caught your eye, that was all you could see. A lopsided man with wonky hips and unleveled shoulders. And no matter what anyone said, he knew it wasn’t attractive. 

What stung a little deeper was that his family had caught the growing curve early. Years upon years were spent wearing bulky braces. Braces that caused him physical pain as they dug into his skin and emotional pain as the kids taunt him. And what did they have to show for it? A 40 degree curve. 

“I just..I can’t. I look bad. I..look stupid,” John blubbered, wanting to run away from the mirror and rip off the shirt. He’s never craved a baggy t-shirt or oversized sweater so much in his life. 

Freddie grabbed onto his elbows, head tilting as he looked into John’s stormy grey eyes. He had on a pensive look, as if thinking of what was best to say.

“Deacy…yellow looks beautiful on you. As does that shirt. Maybe your skeleton is a little wonky, but that doesn’t mean it’s bad. It doesn’t mean it’s ugly or stupid or hideous. If anything, it makes you a tad cuter,” he said, thumbs rubbing soothingly into John’s skin. 

But some well thought out words couldn’t erase years of insecurities. John shook his head, wriggling free from Freddie’s grip. He’d find something else to wear for tonight’s show. Anything. 

Who knew playing a concert in the middle of summer under blazing lights while wearing a wool jumper was a bad idea?

It was the only shirt John could find that satisfied his preferences. Going in, he was confident he could make it. But right now, soaked in sweat and having exhausted every water and beer he could find (and steal from the others) he was ready to pass out. Literally. 

He felt dizzy and wobbled a little bit, messing up a few chords. He was on fire, smoldering, ablaze. And it was because of that stupid sweater. He should have never trusted Freddie to pick his outfit that night.

_Too hot. Too hot. Can’t breathe. Gonna…pass out…hot…_

Never in a million years did John think he’d do this. Never did he think he’d have the confidence to do it. 

Without thinking, he whipped his shirt off, tossing it behind him. Cool air touched his skin, making him sigh in relief. Death evaded once again.

He didn’t give a single fuck if anyone wanted to boo him or taunt him. It was significantly better than having a heat stroke mid concert. He could take whatever they threw at him.

John expected a crowd reaction. And they most certainly reacted. They erupted in screams and high pitched shrieks. The girls reached their hands in the air, hands groping at nothing as if trying to grab at him. A bra landed on a speaker besides him. Wolf whistles and claps echoed through the venue. 

And it was all directed at  _him_. 

“Looks like our little John here is getting ahead of himself. I haven’t even taken  _my_ shirt off yet!” Freddie said into the mic with a chuckle, the crowd growing ear piercingly loud in response.

All John could do was blush fiercely and look down at his bass and shoes. His best case scenario was nothing happening. Definitely didn’t think  _that_ would happen.

The concert continued without a hitch, the crowd more responsive than most once Brian was the only one left with a shirt on. 

Backstage, Freddie bounded toward him, toothy smile glowing. “So you wouldn’t wear my shirt, but you’d get half naked on stage?” he teased. John felt his cheeks and ears redden again, putting on a pout.

“I was damn near a heat stroke,” he mumbled, arms wrapping around himself self consciously. 

“Yeah, I noticed. You stole my fucking beer,” Roger said as he passed by, clearly not wanting to stay and chat.

Freddie giggled, slapping John’s shoulder lightly. “Well, you saw how the people reacted. Especially the ladies. If possible, I’m sure there would’ve been a few knickers up there too,” he said, a devilish glint in his eyes.

“It’s never happening again, I assure you,” John said, walking away to go find a shirt to cover up, totally not a little giddy over how tonight went.

But John is a liar and a bad one at that. Two songs into their next concert, his shirt was off. Curves and lopsidedness be damned. John wants a few more aerial bras.


End file.
